Category Archives: Life’s disappointments

Newlywed Love (#71)

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June 22-26, 1970

After returning to Champaign from Wilmette and unloading the rental van well after midnight, Monday morning came with a bang. Nate returned to the Union parking lot, hoping for a day job, and I stood in long lines registering for summer school.

Pots and pansTuesday brought another job strike-out for Nate, so he signed up for something new. Bouncing through the apartment door, he told me he was going to be a salesman! When I asked “of what?” he said, “Pots and pans – selling them door-to-door.” I had a bad feeling about this but didn’t say so, telling him we would celebrate big-time when he made his first sale.

Tuesday for me included a phone conversation confirming I would be student teaching in a 2nd grade classroom under a teacher who didn’t have as much experience as I did. But I also learned that a friend from Danville would be in my afternoon seminars, a little light in a dark situation. Heavy on my mind, though, was my inability to make any money the whole summer.

2nd gradeOn Wednesday I received the 2nd grade curriculum and my student teaching assignments. Optimism faded when I realized how time-intensive it was going to be. Meanwhile, Nate was doing his best to make his first sale of pots and pans… at $350 a set. [$2100 today] No wonder he wasn’t having any luck.

On Thursday Nate kept up his cold-calling, and I met a classroom-full of students. I also tried to make friends with my co-teacher but could tell she didn’t want me there. Even my steady attempts at humor fell flat. In my journal that night I wrote, Student teaching has me racked already, and I hate it – the seminars, too.

By Friday, Nate and I were both down in the dumps once again, wondering how we would ever live through the summer. But we tried to do for each other what my folks had done for us the weekend before – encourage and nourish. Though I knew Nate was no salesman, I cheered him on: “It’ll happen next week for sure!” He did the same for me: “Only 8 more weeks, Meg. I know you can do it!”

Fellow sufferersThat night, at the end of a hard week, we invited friends Cathy and John over for watermelon at 10:30 and felt much better afterwards. They were having some of their own struggles, and misery loves company.

But best of all was the note I found at the end of that long week: Dearest Meg. Thank you for your warm and affectionate noontime reminder to me. I’ll love you forever.

Nate's noteAnd I knew no matter how hard things got, by the end of the summer, our love for each other would still be strong.

“I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13)

Newlywed Love (#70)

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June 20, 1970

Mom has always been good at lifting the downhearted, and she proved it again when Nate and I arrived in Wilmette. After a difficult week and a miserable drive in an old, beat-up rented van, we walked into my folks’ house feeling deeply discouraged.

Toast and tea.Mom and Dad were watching the ten-o’clock news, each with a TV tray next to their favorite chairs. On the trays was the nightly snack they’d shared every evening for as long as I could remember: buttered toast with cheese, a piece of fruit, and a cup of tea.

Walking into this peaceful scene made our lives, by comparison, seem like they were in shambles – lack of income, sky-high bills, no work for Nate, unexpected summer school for me, the Army breathing down our necks, and a slew of life-shaping decisions looming.

Mom popped out of her chair when we saw us, welcoming us and lovingly taking Baron from my arms. “Sit down, you two,” she said. “I’ll make some more toast.”

By the end of the newscast, both of us were feeling better, nourished by kindness and good food. “How was the drive?” Mom said. Nate and I regaled them with van-stories that no longer seemed upsetting… only laughable.

“We practically had to push it ourselves to get it here without overheating,” I said.

“I guess,” Nate added, “that’s why the company’s called U-DO-IT.”

As we adjourned for bed, Dad said to Nate, “What do I owe you for the van rental?” And we were thankful he remembered.

Breakfast in 1140 yardWhen we came out the next morning, Mom had breakfast set up in the yard. Our backdrop was her clean laundry flapping on a clothesline like festive flags. She was practicing what she’d always preached: “Hang your wash out to dry, and your whole house will smell sweet.”

We ate our fill while Mom told us how eager they were to make little Baron part of their household routine (as she intermittently slipped him bits of ham and eggs). Nate and I knew they would treat him royally, and it would solve the problem of breaking our landlord’s rules.

Mom and BaronBrother Tom, home from American University for the summer, was driving for a limousine service. (“The pay isn’t great, but the job is fun.”) He arrived home just in time to help us load the van with the “treasures” Mom and Dad had collected for our apartment.

As we drove away – after dark, for the benefit of the van’s engine – our smiles were genuine.

 

The Baron and bone

 

Part of the reason was the decision not to part with Baron after all. We just loved him too much to let him go. So he was safely in my arms as I knelt on the hard van floor waving goodbye to my parents.

Something Dad said as we were leaving was pretty special, too. “I’m glad you’re furthering your education this summer. More knowledge can never hurt you. And paying for it is my job, so send all your tuition bills to me.”

“God loves a cheerful giver.” (2 Corinthians 9:7)

Newlywed Love (#69)

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June 15-20, 1970

Nate, Baron, and I arrived back in Champaign facing a big change in our relationship. In one week we would swap roles – I’d become the student, and he would be the breadwinner.

Donated bloodSince none of his job applications had borne fruit yet, Monday morning’s first order of business was for both of us to donate blood – an easy $50 (half-a-month’s rent). But after my schooling began, I would be busy morning (student teaching), noon (classes), and night (lesson prep), so Nate really needed to find work.

He combed the newspaper for opportunities, but the best he could do was the chance to join a construction crew. He knew very little about that but was confident he could figure out whatever they assigned him.

A local union hall invited men to show up for a day’s work with a day’s pay, and Nate decided to try it. The two of us prayed God would give him a job, and he drove to the designated parking lot to sign up. A crowd of other men were already there, but he remained optimistic.

When he walked back into our apartment by mid-morning, I was surprised. “All the jobs got assigned,” he said, “but a bunch of us didn’t get called.” He wasn’t discouraged, though, telling me he’d show up every morning till he was called.

Stress relieverMom and Dad, always encouraging, offered to lift some of the pressure we were both feeling by taking little Baron for a while. It was becoming more and more stressful to have him outside yet keep him hidden, though we loved him to pieces. Besides, our landlord had always been gracious to us, especially when our rent was late, and it didn’t seem right to sneak around his pet-rule.

Although Baron was as much a stress-reliever as a problem, we decided a little time with Mom and Dad would be OK… just for now. Dad made it clear they weren’t officially adopting him, and we made it clear he wasn’t up for adoption.

By the end of the week, Nate’s name hadn’t been called even once. Our bills were mounting, we still needed a car to replace our noxious Mustang, and my summer school tuition was due.

Rented vanWhen Saturday came, we decided to drive to Wilmette where the folks had accumulated a few more items for our apartment. “Rent a van at our expense,” they said, “and you can take all of it back at once.”

We arranged for the cheapest one we could find, a well-dented, hollowed-out thing with only one seat – the driver’s. So while Nate drove, I sat on the floor holding Baron, unable to see out the window – and quickly got car sick. But I wasn’t the only sick one.

The van was sick, too, continually threatening to overheat. So our 3 hour trip took 6, and by the time we walked in at Mom and Dad’s, both of us had sunk to a new low.

“Delayed hope makes the heart sick.” (Proverbs 13:12)